Kiss From a Rose
by TeamSuperDynamiteWolfSquadrant
Summary: Francis needs to prove his love to Mathew who denys it. But his 'proof' for his love of the boy comes not without consequences and in a much different way than intended. YAOI, Mpreg, angst, birth scene and really poor French translations ... I did my best
1. Proof of Love

**For ****FreaksAreBeautiful who requested this through my forum. And when you think about it, Freaks really are Beautiful. Thanks for letting me know about your name change. It helped a lot~! ^ .^ **

**And yes there was song inspiration to this slightly. Love the way You Lie by Rihanna and M&M because I think it fits with the France, England and Joan of Arc story. **

**Rated M for Yaoi smut, Mpreg, vulgar language and one heck of a birth scene. Human names used and Mathew/ Canada comes out of his quite persona so deal with it people! I'm not running a resort here~! **

**Other couples to appear: Canada/Mathew + France/Francis, America/Alfred + England/Arthur, Prussia/Gilbert + Russia/Ivan, Spain/Antonio + Romano/Lovino. **

**Other characters to be appearing are all above +Seychelles. **

**Please do enjoy and get off of my case! I'm Russian! I've the right to beat you with my trusty pipe!**

/

Mathew ran his finger over the smooth, crisp white pages of the novel. His eyes scanning each and every ink printed word, soaking in each description and the entire plotline into his ever curious mind.

If not so immersed in the novel, then Mathew may have noticed the dulled footsteps approaching him from behind, traipsing across the plush cream carpet. But he was too enraptured in the story, and two warm hands resting lightly on his shoulders tore him away from the book, startling the young Canadian.

"It is alright _Mathieu~_ It is just _moi~_" Mathew smiled and closed the book, memorizing the page number for later as the hands moved down over his chest, crossing over each other so hat he was being embraced from behind. It was only Francis. "What are you reading _Mon aime~?_" The Frenchman whispered into his ear. Mathew breathed out a chuckle and held onto the arms that enwrapped him.

"I'm reading Joan of Arc. I read the one written by the English, and she appeared to be so harsh and unkind and slightly if not completely mad." Mathew felt Francis' arms loosen around him lightly as he was lost to memories. "And now I am reading the French one, your one, and it depicts her as a hero who only wanted to spare her _Duphon _and her kingdom from a tireless war with the English."

The Canadian tilted his head slightly to look up at his French lover, who smiled sadly back at him. 

"I watched her burn…" He said simply before regaining his complete happy smile full of bounce and love. "Anyway, times have changed _mon aime_. She rests peacefully above looking down on us and your dinner is getting cold."

"Oh! You didn't have to cook dinner for us Francis. It was my turn tonight."

Francis shrugged and smiled.

"So can I not cook for _mon aime_ if impulse quickly takes me? Must I wait my turn?"

"N-No… I mean you can… I-It's just that you didn't have to…"

Mathew felt his face burn as Francis laughed and helped him up onto his feet.

"Do not worry for it _Mathieu_. Just come with me and enjoy the meal." Francis smiled and led the boy to the dining room by his hand softly, as if that hand were a most priceless treasure, an artifact of great importance that his whole being depended on.

The meal was nothing much. A simple summer salad with a perfectly sliced and marinated chicken breast on the side, artfully arranged with the care Francis reserved for only his love.

And of course, with Francis' talent for cooking, the meal tasted much better than a simple dish ever could, with a thousand if not more different flavors hitting Mathew's taste buds. And surprisingly, for anyone who has not eaten French cuisine, the small portion of food was quite filling, leaving the plate empty, but Mathew content and happy.

"Thank you Francis~" He smiled as they both took their plates to the kitchen to rinse and place in the dishwasher. "Dinner was absolutely wonderful."

'But of course _Mon aime_. Though I believe you doubt your own culinary skills. Even so, I prefer you being able to cook and doubting yourself rather than cooking things that defy all laws of nature and cuisine whilst thinking that your food is among the best." The Frenchman shuddered dramatically and smiled.

"Did Arthur try to feed you more scones yesterday…?" Francis nodded.

"Though of late I have had the beginnings of a suspicion that he can cook yet only makes black food of death and ungodliness for _moi_…"

"Hm, why do you believe that…?"

"Well, _Amerique_ has survived living with him as a child and now as his lover. /and even Gilbert and Ivan have survived more than a few meals at his house."

Mathew chuckled and hugged Francis loosely, holding his hands when he pulled apart and swaying their laced fingers to and fro.

"You're so silly. My brother has a stomach than can digest any substance. I mean, he even let's Tony cook alien food for him. And Gilbert and Ivan are always drinking beer and vodka. Their taste buds are constantly lined with alcohol which eliminates any evil or unholy substance or taste that they consume. To you it may only taste like scones of death because you are a nation of fine cuisine."

Francis smiled as the _**Belissimo**_ dishwasher was closed with a faint click.

"A nation of fine cuisine…? But of course I am. For you are the only partner I have ever been truly happy with _Mathieu_. _Moi amour vous~_"(1)

"Don't say that Francis…" Because of the amount of partners Francis had had, the words, 'I love you', scared Mathew the most. He was scared of them because he was unsure if Francis really DID love him. If he gave into those words, would Francis see him as easy and leave him as soon as he got bored?

But Mathew was terrified that he truly meant what he said as well.

Since the first time Mathew had agreed to go out with Francis, very little persuasion needed as he already liked him very much, the Frenchman had been spending less and less time with anyone but his closest friends, Gilbert and Antonio. But would condoling to the whispers and promises of love, if true, take him from them as well. It would be like he was caging the free spirit of a wild bluebird, which Mathew loved to watch dash around his garden.

"I love you~" Francis said, slipping into English. The elder blonde smiled and held onto Mathew, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Please… don't say it…" The Canadian held onto the Frenchman's upper arms. Francis smiled and kissed the boy lightly.

"Well if I'm not allowed to say it… allow me to express it _Mon aime~_" Before Mathew could say or do anything; Francis leaned forward and parted his lips with his own.

He slid his tongue forward and lightly ran it along the boy's lower lip, brushing along the few small nerves he knew of and the Canadian was melting like butter on a warm summer's day.

Mathew closed his eyes and curled his tongue around the Frenchman's in just the right way that would set the more experienced of the two off.

The Canadian smiled to himself. Alfred and Arthur had had their eyes on Francis from the beginning. Both ready to beat him to a miserable pulp, as they had when the two had gotten together, if he ever hurt the hockey loving boy.

And they'd probably do the same if they saw the movements in the kitchen.

Francis was a traditional lover, as in, he preferred to make love, no matter the situation, in a closed off bedroom on a comfortable bed.

So he slowly walked them to their bedroom, dropping items of clothes on the way, Mathew's glasses landing safely on his hoodie.

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Francis closed the door and lay Mathew down in the centre of the bed, crawling over him lightly, a little gold cross on a chain hung from his neck.

No need to worry for clothes, as all lay in the kitchen and hallway outside the door.

Francis smiled softly, running his blue eyes, darkened with passion, up and down the boy's body. His expression softened when he caught Mathew's eyes with his own and he leaned forward, kissing deep into the hollow of his neck where later an obvious hickey would appear.

Mathew moaned and arched his neck, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he let the sensation fill his mind.

It was wonderful. He loved having Francis' body pressed close to his. The closeness… the warmth… It ignited a passionate fire within him and he laced his arms around the Frenchman's neck and pulled him away from his neck to kiss him on the lips. Almost instantly he felt the Frenchman's tongue slide into his mouth and curl around his own tongue.

All too soon he felt Francis pull away. Mathew went to complain but then the faint smell of cherries filled the room and he closed his mouth, waiting patiently as Francis covered his fingers generously in the lube.

Francis had always been a generous lover. In and out of the bedroom. Always making sure Mathew was comfortable. Or always making sure he got what he want or needed first. At least it meant that the kitchen pantry was well stocked with the ingredients to make pancakes year round.

With a sharp intake of breath, Mathew was pulled out of his thoughts by a cold slick finger pushing into him. He bit down on his lip as a second pushed past the ring of muscle. And the a third joined the fray and settled snuggly inside the boy as Francis gained his grounds.

The Canadian felt like he was reaching the brink of insanity as the fingers began to wiggle around and move back and forth, opening and closing to spread him wider in a scissoring motion. He felt his walls tighten around those digits, trapping them within him.

Francis smiled and kept up with his ministrations, moving his fingers as far as they would go under a darkened face and low moan let him know that he had found the spot that would send Mathew to his brink.

Mathew was sure he was going crazy now as he bucked his hips against the intrusion.

Francis leaned down, planting kisses along his collar bone followed by biting and licking up the boy's arched neck. He came to his lips and locked them in a kiss.

Mathew moaned and reached down with a trembling hand to push the Frenchman's fingers away. He didn't want just simply fingers in him. The older blonde hummed in amusement as he withdrew his fingers

"So impatient _Mathieu_." The older nation's voice seemed to sing in his ear and he released a shuddering breath before nodding and admitting himself.

"… I-I want you… I n-need you…" His face and body flushed heatedly, yet he was covered in telltale goose bumps. Francis smiled as he noticed this and leaned forward to whisper in the boy's ear.

"Do you need me to make you warmer _Mon aime~?_" He chuckled lowly with a lustful glint in his eye as Mathew arched his body up, pressing his smaller pelvis to his own larger one with another sweet moan. "…_par consequent, j'ouvre regler vous sur feu_~" (2) Francis smiled as the smaller blonde blushed darker than even sweet Lovino was capable of.

He moved to start sucking and biting the soft skin of Mathew's neck, his hands running down his body, lingering with playful fingers over the boy's chest, making him gasp and cry out as played with his nipples lightly yet teasingly.

Another low chuckle rolled off his tongue as he ran said muscle along Mathew's main artery as he moved his hands down fluidly to the Canadian's hips.

Thinking twice before he continued, he sat up, causing the smaller of the two to whine and he once again took hold of the tube of lube, pouring a fair amount into his hand and spreading it over his member evenly. As soon as he had, he set the tube aside and came back over the younger; going over all the deep red marks of love he had left across the soft once unblemished skin.

Once again he ran his hands down the sides of his lover, resting at his hips and pulling them up onto his knees to give elevation. He positioned his member, pressing the head against Mathew's entrance and moved forward.

Tears gathered at the corner of Mathew's eyes and he gasped, airily breathing out an unintelligible strand of words, alternating between French and English and he took in the other inch by inch until he had him to the hilt. Adjusting himself, he wrapped his legs around Francis, holding him there and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Looking for someway to occupy himself as he acquired to the feeling of having something in him, he leaned up and licked up the Frenchman's jaw, running his tongue over the stubble to his ear where he began to nibble the earlobe, breathing hot shaky breaths over Francis' neck.

Said man shuddered in pleasure. He loved how his Mathew wasn't one for waiting for the other. He gave as much as he took.

With a smile still set on his face, Francis pulled back, slipping out until only the head of his erection remained in the boy. And then he pushed back in, feeling the walls of muscle tighten around him as Mathew's arms trembled around his neck.

He was so innocent. The first time he had taken the boy to his room he almost couldn't bring himself to taint one so innocent.

But by then they were both painfully hard and Mathew threatened to drag his ass back to the bed and rape him if he left him there.

That was one of the other things he loved about Mathew. He wasn't afraid of anything. And sometimes he could be really kinky if he asked nicely.

But tonight wasn't a game or a fetish satisfaction. He had to prove his love to him. And so this night was about being the most gentle and caring lover the boy could ever hope for. So a soon as he pushed in the third time, setting a rhythm, he located Mathew's prostate as he had with his fingers and hit the sensitive bundle of nerves dead on, earning cries and delicious moans from the younger.

As he moved, careful to run his hands over the sensitive parts of his lovers body, the little gold cross that hung from his neck from a fine chain of gold moved almost musically, catching whatever small light the room held in a poetic way, the reflection of light dancing on his and Mathew's skin in little golden pin points.

The tiny depiction of a golden Christ nailed to the cross was the only witness to the love shared.

Mathew eyed the necklace, amongst his moans and cries and pleas to be touched in certain ways, as he slid along the crisp sheets that he had only replaced that morning. Without thinking, he leaned up and caught the swaying cross in his mouth, running his tongue over the tiny Christ, turning it over between his lips, twisting the chain.

Francis groaned as he watched the boy, playing so crudely with an ornament of the man that had died for humanities sins. SHE had given it to him. It was precious and to see his love toying with it in such a way filled him with an odd feeling. It wasn't bad but…

He closed his eyes and brought his hand around to the Canadian's neglected arousal and grasped it, making the boy cry out and lose the cross, the little ornament swaying back and forth once again.

"O-Oh… Oh God… Francis…" That was all the boy could say before the Frenchman began pumping him in time with his thrusts.

The older blonde moved his head back down, grazing his teeth along Mathew's neck, the little cross resting in the hollow of the boy's neck with the pooling chain.

"Are you still cold…?" Francis whispered low with hot labored breath pouring out over his skin.

"_O-Oui_…"

"I can't hear you _mon aime…_"

"_Oui! Oh Dieu! Oh _God_! Oui!_" Mathew pushed his hips up into the other's hands, wanting more.

Francis smiled and quickened his pace and raised his head, moving his lips along the boy's cheek, across his temple and over his forehead to that one loose strand of particularly defined hair. Without a moments thought or hesitation, he took the hair in his mouth and moved his tongue over it, playing with it in much the same way that his cross had been played with.

There was nothing else for it. Upon the contact his hair had been given, Mathew screamed, with white spots invading his already blurred vision as he came all over their stomachs.

Francis continued pumping him as he curled and writhed underneath him and no more than three thrusts and he too cried out, arching his back as if he were proclaiming his love for Mathew to the heavens. His seed spilling forth into the boy, warming his insides.

He rode out that pleasure before relaxing and pulling out gently and releasing Mathew. He watched almost curiously as his cum ran back out, as if he had filled the boy to the brim.

With a soft chuckle, he crawled over and lay down beside the Canadian.

"Are you still cold…?" He asked again, propping his head up on his elbow.

"… _Non_…" Mathew smiled and simply turned his head to face the older blonde. "_J'see chaud" _(3)

Francis smiled and eyed the semen on the Canadian's stomach thoughtfully before reaching forwards and coating his finger in it and licking it off the digits, still smiling.

"_Ainsi beacoup de aimer tes crepes_…" (4)

"But you never have anything but my pancakes for breakfast, _Oui?_"

Francis thought for a moment before smiling and running his tongue over the boy's stomach, swallowing what he gathered in his mouth.

"_Oui_… But there is one thing I could want more of…" He smiled as he looked down at the boy with a playful smile.

"_Imbecile…"_

The Frenchman chuckled before wrapping his arms around his former protégé, kissing his hair lightly.

"_Moi amour vous~_" Francis smiled. He smiled because he got no rejection of the three words. Because Mathew was already curled up against his chest, fast asleep.

/

_(1) __I love you_

_(2) Therefore, I shall set you on fire_

_(3) I am warm_

_(4) So much like your pancakes_

_Imbecile ~ idiot_

_Oui ~ yes_

_Non ~ no_

_Mathieu ~ Mathew _

_Dieu ~ God _

_I apologize if this is horribly wrong. Because to get this I had to sit there with a tiny little English to French dictionary and do all the translations manually, so stop complaining people with computer translators and internet that works._

_Yup! I would have used the internet for all my translation needs. But my internet is out of order and is back on when this gets posted. Whoo~! _

_Plus it will be MY internet and my parents will only be allowed to use it when I say so. :D _

_Also, I've had a really bad head cold recently which sucketh beyond my likings. I can't hear anything, my vision sucks, my throat decided to swell up and make it hard to say anything that doesn't sound Swedish and it hurts to chew! Guess who's on a liquid diet! ._

_This is the second story I've posted, if you like USUK then please do go and have a whiff. _

_This and the USUK ones were both requested out of a SUCCESFUL YAOI BREEDING MANUAL I posted a couple of months ago. And if you are reading this and were the person who requested advice for mating Russia with Lithuania then I'll have you know that it is coming up shortly. I already have the info, it's just I have been working on these two stories and my internets have been really slow. _

_Oh, and BTW for that, I'm changing the rating so it's, like seen when you start to browse for APH fictions rather than when you look for M without a character selection. I only had three people review on that ;;n;; _

_Oh, and anyone who knows me or has been reading my other fan fiction, Falling, then you should know that the chapters will get long and detailed… So uh… yeah… It's not just a fucking smut one-shot! Yeaha~ _

_No… this chapter is only the start of our couple's problems. And only I and FreaksAreBeautiful know! So there! XP_

_OH don't worry… I may be a blood thirsty angst filled vodka addicted teen with no straight line of blood and one heck of a death stare(takes after Sweden in that way)… but I still love you all…_

_Now please, this is the first time I have ever considered writing for this couple and I have no idea how well liked it is, so could you please, please, please review and not leave me hanging thinking that no one likes my stuffs… and also… how do you see the hits for your stories…? Because I want to know how much my stuffs get read and just how many people have failed to review so I can still send my thanks to them even if I don't know their name… " 3 " _

_Thankyou~ _

_… orooooor… whatever my name is… Geez… Why do I have to like Shrek3 so much…? _


	2. A Nice Day Out Upside down

**Hey ya'll. Finally got around to the second chapter. Whee hee for me!**

**Any way, if you're still hanging around for this story then I apologize for the complete and utter lateness as yes… once again… My internet decided to get screwy… and my muse for this story died. **

**But I went on a long bloodthirsty and noble quest to retrieve it and thus I have. **

**On a point of interest you should all know that I completely and utterly failed with the French language and so have decided to henceforth leave it out. Translators hate me and I don't have the liver to bother you all with favors for translations. Thankyou for any offers though. They have been well received. 3 **

**Couples to appear: Canada/Mathew + France/Francis, America/Alfred + England/Arthur, Prussia/Gilbert + Russia/Ivan, Spain/Antonio + Romano/Lovino. **

**Other characters to be appearing are all above +Seychelles. **

**Now… please do enjoy… no nagging. B(**

/

It was a truly beautiful day. Nothing else could be said about it. The skies were blue, summer flowers blooming to add a bright splash of color to the scene, and children home for the weekend, running up and down the old style back roads with water guns to stay off the midmorning heat.

Despite it being the weekend, the bakers still baked and the sound of chinking glasses and fine china left the atmosphere with tantalizing smells and somewhat elusive sounds, beguiling one's ears.

Yes… it was truly a beautiful day in Paris, that being where they were.

It had been around three weeks since Francis had 'proved his love' to Mathew, and of course as we pervy readers know, that not being the only time since. But aside from that, Francis had invited his two very good and somewhat strange friends, Spain and Prussia, otherwise known as Antonio and Gilbert, out to lunch at his and Mathew's favorite restaurant.

Wanting Mathew to come along, the Frenchman had suggested that Antonio and Gilbert bring along their lover's as well.

So now in the lead Francis walking between a happy go lucky Spaniard and a loud mouth albino. And Mathew walked behind with a pouting Romano who shot off a stream of swearwords at anything that annoyed him, mostly Antonio, to his left.

And a giant freak of nature Ivan to his right.

The Canadian felt boxed in and definitely wasn't enjoying himself. But… this had been something Francis was looking forward to and it was only for the one day… So Mathew was happy enough that Francis was happy and spending time with his friends.

And the blonde really just couldn't wait to get to the restaurant. Not only was he hungry, but the heat of the sun bearing down on his shoulders was making him dizzy.

Cushioned dining chairs, a hot meal with some wine and the cool flow of air from the restaurants new air-conditioning system only sounded all too welcoming, so you can imagine how he felt when they rounded a corner and the establishment came into view.

He was all too glad to step through the doors and feel the mechanically produced cool air wash over him, drying the few beads of perspiration that had begun to readily appear across his forehead and top lip.

But what really turned it into heaven was when he was able to sink into a chair beside Francis, and though it was embarrassing enough to receive in front of the others, a light kiss on the cheek. He might have been invisible at most occasions, but most definitely not with the way that Francis flaunted him around as if he were the most precious gem or something. Which of course meant that as soon as his cheeks began to burn that there were a few sniggers and whispers shared around the table.

As wonderful as all these things were and the thought that Mathew finally might be able to enjoy lunch with everyone wasn't long lasting.

Because all though he wasn't under the heat anymore, and although he was off of his feet and he would be getting food at any given time…

He was still dizzy.

He couldn't quite explain how it was… but it had faint tugs of fatigue and nausea that he just couldn't shake. He was a bit lost in his own world, wondering what the hell was going on with him when he felt a cool hand touch his cheek lightly.

"Are you alright _Mathieu_…?" He turned to see Francis looking at him, concern tainting his features in place of the happiness that should have rightfully been there. "You don't seem so well…"

"… I'm fine…" Mathew smiled reassuringly and was relieved to see a smile reinstate itself on the Frenchman's lips. He smiled and nodded but had to turn to answer a question that Antonio was asking him. But the Canadian felt his hand been grasped and he looked down to see their hands clasped together. Francis was still worried for him. But it seemed he was trying to hide said worry so as not to upset him.

Not a moment too soon were their orders taken and delivered. Mathew looked down at his meal, reaching for his knife and fork.

It looked so good, the delicately cut piece of beef cooked to perfection, the lingering smell of the sweet sauce lingering in the air and the light pasta salad on the side… It made the boy's mouth water.

But by the first mouthful, he knew that something was up. It tasted divine as always but… something was different. Something was off key.

Deciding to brush it aside, too caught up in his meal and the occasional word he could slip in the current conversation, he simply thought that they may have hired a new chef or a trainee. Whoever they were, if they existed, they showed potential to becoming a great chef.

For the time being his fatigue, nausea and dizziness had apparently vanished on a whim… but as he sat watching his now empty plate being carried away as the waiter went to swap it for their desert, he felt the dizziness return… the fatigue was there as well… but the nausea came crashing back like a giant wave trying to knock him off of his feet. Except he wasn't standing, he was sitting and yet he felt these things all the same.

Without much word or warning he practically jumped out of his seat and did the mad dash to the bathroom, many people staring after him.

Looking after him was one pair of curious blue eyes. Francis blinked in confusion before clearing his throat and excusing himself from the table. He rose out of his seat and followed after Mathew, stepping into the men's room.

There was no one else in the room which was a thing he could be thankful for at such a time as he saw his precious _Mathieu_ hunched over one of the porcelain sinks with the water running. Knowing that he was losing his meal and not by choice with the speed he had left the table, he stepped over to him and removed his glasses and held his hair back, whispering soothing words into the boy's ear as he cried and emptied his stomach.

When he was done, he turned the tap off and shaking profusely whether for being cold or shock, Mathew turned to face Francis, who in kind responded by wrapping his arms around him and stroking his hair lightly.

When the Frenchman looked closer he noted how pale Mathew was and though his skin seemed feverishly hot, he was covered in a cold sweat.

"I think we should take you to the hospital, Oui."

Mathew nodded silently and put his glasses back on, tucking some hair behind his ear as he followed Francis back out to the others, gripping his hand tightly.

"What's going on…?" Gilbert asked curiously. It appeared that the whole group had been wondering about Mathew's dash to the bathroom and had been waiting for both blonde's to return. Both Mathew and Francis couldn't thank them enough for overcrowding them in the bathroom.

"_Mathieu _is feeling unwell." Francis stated simply with a short nod of his head, and they knew by the Canadian's appearance that the Frenchman did not lie and that they weren't leaving on accord of being for their own company. "I am taking him to the hospital to have him looked over."

"Why go as serious as the hospital…?" Antonio asked casually but his voice still laced with concern.

"Because the economy is well at such a time so I see no reason for _Mathieu _to be so sick." The four nations around the table nodded and Francis gave his thanks before turning and leaving the restaurant with an arm around his lover and he called a cab to take them to the hospital, since they had walked from his house to the restaurant.

The drive was fairly short but Mathew still fell asleep on Francis' arm, the Frenchman smiled as he pulled him into a hold as he stepped out of the cab and paid the fare, carrying the boy up to the hospital doors.

Things were fairly simple from there. By the time he had been admitted, Mathew was awake again. He was taken, with Francis at his side to a private room, condoned for the taller blonde and any other guest nations if they have need of it.

Because the economy was well for Mathew at the time, the doctor assigned to him had to do various tests, like drawing blood and taking urine samples, much to the Canadian's embarrassment. But when all the samples were taken away to be tested, he fell asleep on the hospital bed and Francis drew the curtains closed before sitting beside him and watching him.

Mathew wasn't weak. Simply because he was rarely noticed and repeatedly the cause for an exorcism didn't make him weak. But Francis couldn't deny how utterly frail he looked at this point in time.

What if it was something serious…? How could he be so sick…?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there asking himself those questions when the doctor returned with a clipboard. Francis came to attention and rose from his seat.

"What is it…?" He asked, for once not one for beating around the bush and wanting to get straight to the point.

"Um…" The Frenchman felt like hitting him or something. What kind of professional doctor says 'Um' at the beginning of a sentence…? "Well… he isn't regurgitating the food of his own accord… so he isn't Bulimic… and he isn't ill with anything… I would like to say that today's heat was what got to him but…"

"But what…?" A crease appeared in the Frenchman's brow as he frowned, the severity emitted not one to fit his usually cheerful visage.

"… Well… He's actually quite healthy… very healthy in fact… they both are…" The Doctor shuffled on his feet somewhat awkwardly.

"Wait… I just heard you correctly, Oui? **Both**… of them…?" The frown in the Frenchman's brow deepened, but not of anger or irritation, but of WHAT THE FUCK-ness.

"… u-um… Oui… He is with child…" The Doctor cleared his throat and was silent for a moment before leaving, excusing himself with the fact that he had another patient waiting.

/

Well first off, Francis couldn't believe it. So how on earth was he meant to tell Mathew and make him believe it…?

It had been four days since they had gone to lunch with Antonio, Lovino, Gilbert and Ivan… And Francis was still unable to think of how to tell Mathew that he was pregnant. In only a couple of months he would be one month along…

But the more Francis put it off, the more the risk was of Mathew waking up one morning and freaking out at his suddenly there stomach or it being to late for him to make the choice if he wanted to get an abortion…

And that was another thing that the elder of the two needed to think upon.

What if Mathew did want to get rid of it?

That singular thought was a constant plague on his mind and aside the fact that he couldn't think of how to tell Mathew… that one thought also made him hesitant to tell him.

But he knew that he had to tell him today.

He sighed and set the dish clothe on the bench as he had been putting the dishes away and peeked into the lounge room where he saw Mathew curled up on the couch under a blanket, reading again.

He still felt horrible, though having no fever he still lost most that he ate and he went through hot and cold flushes and he complained when the elder denied him medication and the like.

Francis sighed again and walked into the room, putting a smile on his face and sitting on the edge of the coffee table so he was facing the Canadian, who, when he saw him approach, marked the page in his book by slipping in a piece of fraying string before closing it and smiling tiredly at the Frenchman.

"How are you feeling, _Mathieu_…?" The taller asked, leaning forward and brushing some hair behind the boy's ear.

"Better… Um… I'm sorry for all the trouble I'm causing." The more reserved of the two looked down, but Francis caught his chin and tilted his head up so he could look him in the eye.

"You are not causing trouble. Never think such a thing. I want you to be happy and well, Oui." He smiled and kissed Mathew's forehead. "But I must tell you something and you must promise to listen…"

Mathew was quite for a moment, biting his lip softly and Francis knew that the Canadian knew that what he had to say was about why he was feeling so poorly.

"Alright…" He sighed and nodded.

"Merci…" Francis smiled a little before taking a moment to think of the absolute way of telling him he was pregnant. "… You're pregnant…"

"… What…?"

Blue eyes met violet and Francis saw his world crumble away before his eyes.

/

**YEAHA! Cliffy! That's why you love me. :D**

**Told you there was more to this story people. **

**Never doubt my genius.**

**Next chapter will be loooong! **

**Final chapter… longeeeer! **

**You see, the first chapter was the making the baby (i.e.; the fun part) and the second chapter was finding out about it. And the next chapters will be / erased paragraph / **

**:D **

**Please review and as America says to China**

**You so horny you love me long TIEM!**


	3. No cut as deep as Child's Loss

Francis' world didn't fall apart… Well… at least not all at once.

Mathew was eight months along, intent on making it full term and having their child.

So why was Francis' world still crumbling away piece by miserable insignificant piece?

Because half the time… Mathew was happy, overjoyed about the baby…

… But he would barricade himself inside a room, making it impossible for the Frenchman to get near him and enjoy it as well.

So the elder of the two was left on his knees outside the door, pressing his forehead to the wood and listening to his beloved sing to the unborn child within him.

Other days… he would wake and find the boy in the kitchen, screaming and crying and holding a bloody knife, the same crimson staining his sleeves.

Those mornings…. In fact, the entire day produced from that morning was just horrible for Francis… He had no way of stopping him… He wasn't going to restrain him, or degrade him by padlocking all the doors and drawers that hid anything sharp. The best he could do was comfort him and clean and bandage his wounds.

…. And when Mathew emerged from his hovel on the 'good' days... All he could do then was hold a false smile….

Today, thank god, he was happy…. Having locked Francis out of their room and was reading aloud to the life within him from his _Joan de Arc _Novel… Every few sentences he would stop reading and speak to the baby happily, telling it about something he had read.

At the moment, Francis sat outside the room, leaning with his head back against the wall beside the door, eyes closed as he listened to his…. To his LOVER… describe to their child about how Joan had proclaimed the _fleur de li _her emblem and carried it upon her banner for all to see as she charged into battle.

Outside that door, Francis wiped his eyes. God… What Alfred and Arthur WOULDN'T give to see him like this.

He was at an all time low… crying for God's sake! 

And most of all… they would relish in the fact that Mathew was blocking him out… pushing him away.

That was what they had wanted all along. When they had revealed Mathew's state to the rest of the world… Arthur and Alfred's reactions had been anything but pleasant.

Pulling himself out of those thoughts, he sighed and looked at the time.

Mathew would unlock the door soon and be hungry for dinner.

Francis sighed once more as he managed to get to his feet without too much protest from his tired body and went to the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients he needed to begin cooking. At least that took his mind off of things, if only for a while.

Instead of worrying about Mathew and grieving for not being involved with his unborn child, cooking allowed him to, never forget it, but push it aside and out of his mind for now.

It was probably somewhere around six pm as he was setting the table. He pretended he did not hear the click of the lock. Nor the soft creak of the door as it was pushed open.

But what he did hear, without fail, was the faint drag of wheels carrying weight. Frowning, the Frenchman looked up at Mathew.

Why did he have a bag? Two in fact! A bag rolling behind him; and a bag on his back.

"Mathew…?" Francis asked hesitantly, not even wishing to know.

"You don't have to worry about us anymore…. We're leaving." The Canadian frowned, dead set on his plans as the words echoed in Francis' ears… more rather, his fragile heart.

"Why? Where? For how long?" Inside, Francis was having a small, no scratch that, a large panic attack that he was struggling to hide. Oh God! The boy didn't mean forever did he?

The smaller blonde just frowned more so, almost, ALMOST, glaring. It didn't suit him. No… what suited him was happiness. Radiance. Joy. Love. None of which showed through.

"I've called Arthur and Alfred… They're on their way." Mathew paused for a moment, letting the taller of the two soak it in. "I'm going… and I'm not coming back…"

Francis stared at him, eyes wide with a thousand emotions crossing his features. Mainly to say, surprise, anger, hurt, sorrow and a curiousness provoked by his surprise.

"… Matt… you can't leave…" Francis said in a pleading tone… he couldn't lose Mathew… not now… not ever. But at his words, the Canadian merely growled in frustration.

"Are you telling me what to do? You can't control me Francis… I can't stay here anymore… It's suffocating. And like you give a damn about me or the baby."

"That's not true! You are my world Mathew! You and the baby both are! How can you not believe that?" Francis' eyes were wide, like a mad man… he couldn't believe this. It wasn't happening. It was just a nightmare… a horrible nightmare he'd wake up from any moment.

"You're never there Francis! You don't try to get involved! You don't care when I'm upset!"

The elder of the two paused before his own anger bristled.

"That's a lie and you know it Mathew! Who locks me out of the room day in day out…? Who do I have to pull away from the kitchen knives nearly every morning? I am there for you Mathew! But you're pushing me away!"

Mathew went to reply when the front door opened and they both turned to face it. Alfred walked in, walking straight over to Mathew and picking up his bags, not sparing a glance for the Frenchman. Arthur stormed straight in behind him and straight up to Francis. Big surprise. And the taller blonde had to maneuver out of the way of a straight punch.

Mathew was walking out the door, not even looking behind him, with Alfred at his heels. Francis stared after them, not believing once more what was happening.

And then Arthur threw another punch, which he didn't notice and it caught him off guard, throwing him off of his feet. He stumbled and fell to the ground, landing heavily on his ass. Stunned, he glared up at Arthur, who's bejeweled green eyes glared back.

"I'm not letting you do to him what you did to me…" The Englishman said softly, clearly not meant for anyone's ear's but Francis'.

"That was different… I had to do what I did when I found out you were holding Antonio prisoner…"

"You could have asked…! I would have done anything for you Francis… And you turned against me…."

"… I had no choice Arthur! You were holding Antonio prisoner! I had to get him out…"

"I just said I would have done anything to you… You could have just asked! You didn't have to hurt me!"

"Is that was this is about? Are you taking Mathew away because of what I did to you?"

"It's not what you did to me… it's what you might do to him!"

Francis blinked, stunned… "Wh…. What you mean to say that you think I would misuse him? Hurt him? Cheat on or leave him?"

"Yes…" The Englishman's breath shook and he stepped back. Doubt was clear in those emerald eyes. "… I'm sorry…" And then Arthur turned and walked away. He disappeared through the open door way, closing it behind him. Moments later, the sound of a car engine starting and fading away was all that Francis heard before the drumming sound of rain became all that the Frenchman knew.

After many hours of sitting in the same place he had been sitting, he drifted of into a land of dark torment and nightmares against the leg of the table.

/

Mathew sat on the window seat of the plane. Arthur and Alfred were in front of him and the seat beside him was empty. He was glad. He wasn't sure he wanted company at the moment.

In truth, he wasn't quite sure of what he was feeling at the moment.

He'd walked away from everything… everything that mattered and the only man he felt he mattered to.

Through the layers of glass he could only see the blinking lights on the wing of the plane and the occasional wisp of cloud for the night sky obscured almost everything…. Save for his reflection. It stared back at him, condemning him to an eternity, the lifetime of a nation, to sorrow and pain. He pulled the shutter down over the window, banishing his damned reflection. He closed his eyes as a tear or two fell down his cheeks and landed with an inaudible splash on the material over his belly.

Anxious, he rubbed small circles over the taught stomach that was his child's home.

He had to do it, he kept repeating to himself. He hated himself for everything he had done to Francis, and the pink and brown across his wrists reminded him of the self hate. But the last doctors appointment, just before he'd started all this…

"_Mathieu… I have to run out to do something, but I'll be back to pick you up after your appointment… ok?" _

_Mathew smiled up at the Frenchman and nodded, leaning up to kiss him, the small barely there baby bump perfectly wedged between them. _

"_I'll be fine my love. I mean, it's still strange to think there is a baby in there… but that's not a license to say I need you for everything. I'll see you when it's over."_

"_Oui, alright… but promise to tell me everything."_

"_Ok, ok… now go on or you'll be late."_

_One last kiss was shared and Francis was off. Mathew smiled as he watched from the window of the waiting room as the elder started their car and was off down the street. _

_Moments later he was called in to see the doctor. _

_The office was clean and white, with a calming yet boring blue carpet. The windows had blinds just open for a little natural light, but most the too bright light was given by the white fluorescent lights on the roof. The most entertaining thing about the room was that it had cute stickers of ballerina elephants on the walls, and stalks with baby sacks._

_The doctor they'd chosen to monitor the progress of the pregnancy was named Andreas Myll… A young man with blackish brown hair that was in tight curls against his scalp. His eyes were a worrying grey and his skin was tanned. Photos on his desk confirmed he lived on or at least had a holiday house on the sea side. In those photos was a pretty blonde woman who wasn't thin, but wasn't fat, having a nice figure in the terms of softness. She was truly quite beautiful with a dazzling smile and bright azure eyes. _

_Mathew tried to not get too caught up in the photos. The doctor was wary of him, as he had had to go through quite a bit before he was allowed near this unique pregnancy or attend to the nations. It was an honor for him, but a dangerous one. He was determined to do everything perfect. _

_If only that could have been so. _

_He got Mathew to lie down on a thin bed against the wall. They were going to run some tests and do an ultrasound. It carried on for about an hour, re-running over things to be precise. _

_While Dr. Myll ran through the test results, Matt took a quick toilet break._

_He returned with a smile on his face, but that smile soon fell. The doctor's face was troubled. He told the Canadian that it would be best if he sat down. He asked if he would like something to drink or if he'd like to wait for Francis. He said no to it all… if the doctor was trying to delay something, he wanted to know why up front. _

_The doctor sighed and sat down in front of the now seated Canadian__._

"_Monsueir… The news I bear is not good…"_

_Mathew clenched his jaw. His heart sunk immediately but he wanted to remain strong. "Then tell it to me and save me the pain of waiting to hear it…"_

"… _Your baby is unwell… it will be born with an illness and… it might not survive…"_

_Mathew said nothing. The doctor tried to tell him more about it, but it all passed unheard. Mathew soon left, not needed any more and waited around outside until Francis arrived and he climbed into the car beside him._

_He was greeted with a cheery kiss on his cheek. "Bonjour my love~ How was it…?"_

_Mathew looked over to his lover. Those blue eyes so cheerful shattered his heart. He broke down crying, but for all the elder's asking, he could not pry free an answer. _

Mathew opened his eyes and looked down at his stomach. That was when he had started cutting and locking himself away. His poor child… He couldn't bring himself to tell Francis of their child's very likely fate.

"Mathew…?"

The Canadian looked up to see Arthur sliding in beside him. Alfred was off to the toilet or something.

"Arthur…? What was it like…?"

"What was what like…?"

"… Saying all those things to Francis…?"

The Englishman sighed and wrapped his arms around the younger as he leant against him. "It was the second worst thing in my life… we should forget the past…"

"Thankyou… I don't want you to hurt, but…"

"It's alright… I believe… I believe that you should have stayed… but I know why you wanted to do this…"

"Thankyou… I just… I just can't face him with this…"

"I know Mathew… We'll be there for you…"

/

The nation of Seychelles, Angelique, was worried for her papa. And so, with Vietnam, Loung, they decided to check in on him. But upon arrival their worry was not quenched. It was fed. The door was slightly open, as if it had been closed in a great hurry and had not shut properly. A trail of water trickled down to the centimeter high step and pool up over the threshold.

Worry ate at their hearts and minds and they pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The smell of rotting food clung to the air and their hearts stopped when they saw what lay before them.

Dinner from two nights before lay on the table, unappreciated and growing mold.

On the floor, curled up, lay Francis.

The two women nations cried out and ran to his side. He was half unconscious and shivered a little when they touched him. Angelique pulled him up into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh papa… what happened?"

The Frenchman closed his eyes and a tear ran down his cheek, the last and first of many.

"He left… Mathew left… he's gone… and I can't get him back…"

They sat there a while as they drank in the words before Loung spoke.

"I'll go pack some of his things…"

"oui, merci Loung…. He can come to my house for a while…"

The Vietnamese woman nodded and hurried off to go pack some of the Frenchman's things.

Angelique held her father close and ran her hands over his hair as if he was the child and she was the parent.

"There, there papa… it's going to be alright."


	4. A Leap of Faith is best taken Blind

Mathew sighed as they stepped through the door. He was almost full term and his back hurt. Alfred had just dragged him and Arthur along to McDonald's for lunch. And the sight of all the excited children running about had exhausted his mind.

He was at the stage where he was beginning to have second thoughts about all of this. Was he so sure that he would be able to raise this child.

Hearing Alfred laughing at something in the kitchen and Arthur cussing, he smiled lightly before wandering up to his new room. Once inside he closed the door behind himself and lay down on the bed in a foetus position, pulling up his shirt and rubbing the taught skin of his belly.

He thought about Francis a lot while he was alone. How was he? Was he happy? What was he doing? Was he with anyone else?

The thoughts of the Frenchman filled his mind like a plague. He could hear his warm honey voice whispering tantalizing words in his ear. He could smell the fresh cologne he always liked to wear. The taste of his lips was so vivid that Mathew shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, trying to get it out of his mind.

The only thing that happened was the baby kicking against the fleshy walls of his stomach.

Why oh why couldn't his life be simple?

No… it couldn't be… could it…

A week ago, he'd been told by the doctor that something had stunted the baby's growth…

Mathew panicked. Was it the cutting? Was it his lack of appetite? He didn't know. But he blamed himself.

His poor baby was going to be born blind.

/

Seychelles wandered about her home, having just hung the sheets out to dry. The smell of fresh cooking wafted around the house, greeting her in every room.

Setting the empty basket in the laundry, she wandered to the kitchen and watched her father from behind, cooking away.

Cooking, painting, helping with the house work… he was doing anything that kept him busy or his mind focused on something. Trying to be happy, but hiding behind what he was doing. He was making pancakes for lunch.

From behind, the girl could see the blond hair reaching just below the Frenchman's shoulder blades, more straight than it had been as it was weighted down. He hadn't bothered cutting it more than a light trim at the ends every now and then. It grew fast though and she was sure given another month, that even tying it back, it would go another inch or two down his back. Right now he had it tied back, but a few loose bits of hair stuck out here and there.

Not to say he looked bad, but since when had Francis not been obsessed with his appearance. Or maybe… maybe he only made sure he looked good for someone in particular…

Seychelles prayed that he wouldn't stay like this forever. False smiles were not for him and he couldn't dwell on the past forever.

It was two months until the next meeting… .Mathew would have had the baby by then… what would he be like seeing his child and his ex there.

It would be crushing. If he could move on just that tiny bit… then… then perhaps he could be happy.

"Papa…" Seychelles said, stepping in and looking over his shoulder, on her tiptoes lightly as he mixed the batter. "Papa, how are you feeling…?" She asked.

The blonde paused… swallowing deeply before forcing a smile. "I'm fine…"

"What are you thinking about…?"

"… Things… "

The girl sighed. Vietnam was better at talking to him than she was… well, in the comforting sense… she seemed to know him just that bit better. But she had had to go home a few weeks prior, and things had become more difficult since.

It took her quite a long time, but eventually she found something to say.

Then the phone rang… Blinking, she left the Frenchman and went to go answer it.

Francis sighed, returning to his work on the batter. It had been just right for the past fifteen minutes. But he felt like that just a little more mixing would make them better.

He paused as he caught the muffled sounds of his former protégé talking away on the telephone. He went to go back to the batter when she pattered into the kitchen, holding out the phone.

"Papa… it's Arthur… He said it's urgent…"

/

Arthur paced, biting his bottom lip as he held the phone tightly. He was sure he heard an almost inaudible conversation on the other end. But otherwise, the phone was silent. Upstairs, he could hear Alfred trying to coax Mathew out of his room.

Finally, there was the static exchange of the phone from one person to another and he was answered by a worn French accent.

"_Oui… what do you want Arthur?"_

The Englishman almost cried out in relief. "Francis! Please… you have to come… it's Mathew… he needs you…"

Silence for a moment.

"… _He didn't need me before… he has you and Alfred now…"_

"'F-Francis… that's not the point…"

"_Then what is the point Arthur? What else do you want to take from me? Have I not lost enough? Must I die or suffer for you to be happy…?"_

"Stop it! Look… Mathew DOES need you… he… he's gone into labour… but he's locked himself in his room and he won't come out… He's screaming and crying and all we know is he's in pain… And he keeps calling for you…"

"…" There was a long moment of silence and Arthur wanted to cry… was Francis ignoring the call of the boy who loved him? What was going through his mind?

Next second, the voice of Seychelles chimed through the phone.

"_He's on his way Arthur~"_

/

Despite the heavy contractions, Mathew had, at some stage, managed to drift off into some kind of meditation or sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes again, the world was silent… his contractions were still there and his waters threatening to break at any given time. But Alfred wasn't at the door, nor Arthur, pleading him to come out. And instead of the afternoon sky, it was the moon and stars he could see gleam through the window.

So lost in his thoughts which somewhat distracted him from the contractions, that he almost jumped out of his skin when there was a light knock on the door.

He was about to shout out and scream to go away, as he had been hours before… but, a different voice spoke before he could protest. It wasn't a heavy American accent, or proper English one… it was tired, sad, but still light and hopeful French accent.

"Mathew… Are you alright…?"

Tears ran down the Canadian's cheeks he felt his heart ache. They had called him here? He never thought that they would have. Sobbing in pain, but happily, he dragged himself out of the bed, limping to the door and unlocking it.

Right there before him as he opened the door was the man he had betrayed. But it didn't matter right now. All he had wanted was to be held by him again and without any words spared, he wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face into his chest, sobbing away into the fabric of his shirt.

There was a surprised hesitance before Francis wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm here mon petit… I'm here…"

Down the hall, Alfred saw his brother come out of the room partially, even if it was for the sake of the Frenchman. In his hasty nature, he sprung to his feet and started towards his brother, planning on dragging him right to the hospital.

"Mattie! Time to go!" He said in a boisterous tone.

The meek twin startled and looked at him in… fear? His arms trembled and he let go of Francis, disappearing back into his room, the door closing again.

Angry that the gentle moment had been stolen from him, and that Mathew would only be more reluctant to seek help now, Francis glared at Alfred.

And for the first time in many lifetimes… Alfred was a young juvenile… France might not have had a highly successful career as a warrior… but all his years of life reflected in his eyes.

He was a pervert and never too eager too fight… but those blue eyes made Alfred shrink into his socks. Francis was an old nation, in his early teens when Rome ruled half the world. He had been a part of that. He'd seen the wars with the Persians, sailed the seas, owned more successful colonies than England in South East Asia and was the only nation insane enough to march across Russia in the winter in search of the holy Grail. And if not for the man before him, Alfred would not have his independence.

In those eyes, there was a deep hidden wisdom, deeper than the ageless oceans. And there was a power, all nations had it somewhere, that very much like one male wolf would state power over another and claim the position of Alpha, that told the American to back down.

"… Leave…" He said, and unable to retaliate… even if he wished it… Alfred stared at his shoes, glaring at them, before he turned and left. When he had left, and was down the stairs, out of sight… Francis turned to the door.

All hardness and domination left his eyes. A tender look appeared, and he turned the handle gently, pushing the door open, thankful Mathew hadn't locked it this time, and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The boy he adored, sat in the middle of his bed, eyes closed as he rubbed his stomach, rocking back and forwards slightly.

Francis was sad… but he didn't cry… he smiled, and sat beside the younger nation, rubbing the small of his back lightly.

"Dear, dear Mathew… talk to me, oui… tell me what bothers you so…" He said in a gentle voice.

The Canadian was silent for a while, not too sure what he should say. And then he knew. He just had to tell Francis that he loved him. That was all. He had spent their whole relationship before denying it whenever the blonde had said it. No… he knew now that it was true… Francis, even when he had been betrayed by the boy, was still there for him. So the three words, 'I love you…' Were all he needed to say…

Except when he went to say it… nothing came out… his breathed hitched, and there was a slight cramp as something broke within him. His eyes widened and he looked down at the pooling liquid on his bed sheets, soaking into his pants.

His breath drew in ragged panic as the pain hit him. He clenched his teeth and whined, clinging to the older male.

Francis looked at the waters, only a moment of confusion before he pressed his lips tight and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him out of the room.

"Alfred!" He called. Down the bottom of the stairs, the American appeared, Arthur right behind him. They didn't need to question Francis. Alfred grabbed the keys, and Arthur grabbed a blanket and some towels.

/

On the ride to the hospital, which was ungodly far away, Alfred drove, not wanting to speed, but expressing a great amount of road rage at anyone who slowed them down. Arthur tried to calm him. In the back seat, Mathew lay across it, head in Francis' lap as he screamed and groaned in pain.

"… G-GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF ME!" He screamed into the Frenchman's leg, holding on tightly to his hand, so much so that he thought he might crush it. "I-I-I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE!" He moaned pitifully, sobbing as he did so in great choking gulps, trying to breathe evenly, but failing to maintain his cool.

For the first time in his life, Mathew was truly seen, heard and acknowledged by everyone around him. Everyone in the car was grim, Francis especially. Male births were difficult. They didn't have the body to birth properly.

It was possible, but it was dangerous…

Women, while still putting their body under a lot of stress, had a softer passage that opened easier for the infant to be born.

Mathew, did not have such a luxury. The pain was killing him, because the baby was trying to come out… The only sensible place it could be born naturally, was the way which it had gone in… But respectfully saying, the muscles and flesh around that general area were tighter and firmer.

Natural birth would tear Mathew apart. He could lose too much blood and die… or suffer mass spinal injury, reducing him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

As a nation, the rest of his life was a long time. None wanted to see him live forever in a chair.

Right now, from what they could get out of the Canadian in a sensible language, the baby was trying to push out, entering the canal. There was already a lot of blood coming out and they were worried that through the placenta, the baby had damaged an organ like a kidney or his bladder.

They pulled into the car park at the hospital, speeding through the lanes to emergency. The plan was to get a C-section. It would leave Mathew with a scar, and no chance of wheel chair.

But they knew, as they pulled into emergency, as Mathew gave a particularly loud scream, not even able to stand on his own anymore, that that wouldn't be happening. The baby had started coming out… He would have to give birth naturally.

/

Alfred paced the hallway, Arthur fidgeting as he sat in a seat to the side. They could hear the screams of agony, doctors running about frantically. It didn't help that the media had gotten wind of a nation birth and were crowded in the waiting room, trying to catch interviews with America and England or nurses and doctors as they rushed in and out of the room. Thank goodness every had the conviction to bypass them and leave them with no scoop.

In the birthing room, Francis stood beside the bed, gripping Mathew's hand and praying to God, the gold cross on his chain held firmly in his other hand. The start of all this had revolved around this cross. Now… it would see it through to the end.

Mathew had a few seconds here and there to look at Francis. He couldn't believe he was praying for him. It was better comfort than it sounded right now.

But then it was back to pushing. He felt unbelievably dizzy, from loss of blood, and his legs felt like jelly whenever he had a break…. But oh God, that pushing…

His inner walls were tearing violently, so much so that he had gone numb slightly down there. But a small voice told him to keep pushing, so he did.

"It's crowning!" One doctor exclaimed, and Mathew only felt more determined. It was almost there.

One push. He screamed.

Another, and he screamed again.

And then a third, and he was sobbing, but a third wail joined his own, and somehow, he ended up laughing, crying and babbling like an idiot as a warm, wet, wriggling mass of baby girl was place in his arms. The infant cried, but it didn't matter. He rocked her slightly; tear after tear pouring down his face. His beautiful baby girl.

Her dirty hair was obviously blonde, but he had yet to see her eyes. She cracked an eyelid open briefly before closing it again, and he saw a milky blue. Blind…

Oh, but nothing could dampen his spirits right now.

Francis looked on, having released Mathew's hand so he could hold the baby. His heart broke in a beautiful way as he saw the exact moment the Canadian bonded with the infant. It was breath taking… nothing he had seen before in his life had been so beautiful.

Hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, Mathew looked up to Francis after a moment and smiled gently, violet eyes glazed and tired, but loving, and he mouthed the words that he had wanted to say earlier.

"I love you…"

Francis' smiled brightened and he leant down, kissing him joyously. "Oui, oui… I love you too…. I love you too…" He repeated and pressed his forehead to the boy's. "I'm so proud of you ange…"

/

**Aw, I cried while writing this. One more short chapter and then I'm done.**

**Dedicated to FreaksAreBeautiful.**

**Because they really are. **


	5. Kiss from a rose finally

Joan Angel Bonnefroy-Wiliams

Five pounds, eight ounces.

Born with silver blonde hair and blue eyes.

Blind.

Slight case of jaundice. Treated in intensive care.

Born on the 29th of November, 2011.

At: 02:17 am.

Mathew's spine had been damaged in the birth and he had lost a lot of blood. But the damage was fixable. He had six months in a wheelchair, and then he started physical therapy. After two years, he was walking again.

Francis proposed to him at their daughter's first Christmas, when she was just three weeks old. Alfred gave them his blessings, and Arthur forgave Francis for their own tale of betrayal.

The experiences of watching Mathew suffer in childbirth had terrified Arthur and Alfred.

The day after his niece's third birthday, Alfred drove downtown to pick up some milk, when he'd caught Arthur walking into an abortion agency. The smaller was in tears, but he managed to pull him out before he could do anything.

Arthur was two months pregnant at the time, and in a moment of panic, tried to abort it. Alfred, remembered his brother's suffering. He didn't want that for Arthur. But he didn't want to take such drastic measures to abort.

He booked a flight, and took Arthur to France. Mathew spent the next eight months with Arthur, helping him through it, and Francis and Alfred got over their hate, and the American let his brother in law help him understand how to help Arthur himself.

Arthur made it through the pregnancy and had a successful C-section. He and Alfred had a beautiful baby boy. They named him Anthony.

/

The little five year old girl sat silently, running her fingers over the black white pages, studded with a special writing her parents had taught her to read. It was the story of the woman she had been named after.

She was dressed in a white dress with little silver ballet flats. Her long now honey blonde hair danced in curls and random braids threaded with daisies. She looked something like a Celtic angel. Her mother was just at the other end of the room, slipping into his dress. Gay marriage wasn't legal yet… they still had to pass it… but her parents didn't want to wait another ten years just to be married. So Mathew, her mother, was dressing like a woman. He looked amazing, wearing a strapless bra with special implant type things that were put inside the bra to make it look like he had B cup sized breast size.

His hair was done up in a French swirl bun, little diamonds studded in at random intervals. Mathew had been embarrassed about it all weeks before, at the concept of dressing like a woman. But he accepted it now and admired himself in the mirror. Francis and he would remarry when the law was passed, but this was just for now. He was startled as he looked into the reflective glass. The person who looked back at him was not him. He had slightly glossy rosy lips with matching rosy cheeks. Without his glasses, he was able to wear fake eyelashes as well…

God he felt like such a cross dresser right now… but if that's what it took to marry his love, then he would do it. Somewhere, he was fairly sure that he had been made a more feminine man on purpose, to bear his daughter, and get married easily.

He smiled when he heard his name being called and he walked over to his daughter, taking her hand and hugging her tight. She smiled up at him, milky blue eyes looking past his neck at nothing.

He kissed her forehead, and with her hand in his, he made his way out to the aisle where the entire crowd fell silent and gaped at him. With his daughter at his side, the music started, and he started to walk along the white carpet, to his fiancé and the altar.

At the altar, Francis smiled.

Two angels came up to him. His daughter went with her uncle, and he took Mathews hand, thinking how stunning he looked.

The wedding was beautiful. Their rings glinted golden in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the stained glass windows. And they kissed… sweetly… delicately… finally.

Like a long awaited kiss from a rose.

/

**Done. That's the end of the story. I hope you all enjoyed it and happy reading if you decide to check out any of my other stories.**

**Dedicated request from FreaksAreBeautiful.**

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